Test 4
The Shadow Witch. The last witch of this world, that had fled the punishment of destruction provided to her mates. She sauntered without heed or intention into this life, with nothing left to treasure. Nothing that she could gain from her skills anymore. And nothing that could bring her dead mates back, because no magic could bring the dead back to life. And thus, she became isolated. And through isolation, one wishes to satisfy themselves plus their passions. Why? Because it allowed them to stretch their moment, for it was unwise to let their thoughts unchecked. Especially when a tragedy had befallen. They falsified the history of the witch. This act of malevolence was the casus beli toward the witches as well as their end. The witches were never a threat against humankind. But they made it look similar to that, if not worse. And because of that, Rusalka, the Shadow witch, had converted most utmost of her time into the teachings of magic. Although, nothing could bring her compatriots back. That had escalated into a derangement. A compulsion to seek Immortality. To never disappear. She discovered that once fallen, none could come back alive. For that reason, she sought something or somebody that could prolong her life span. But then another question rose into her mind. Another deadly poison that she had picked without to even know. That was, what chance had made immortality so sought after? Why was there death to begin with? Why was the cosmos made out of such a severe fabric? Those were the mysteries she posed to herself. Or at least, somebody to her. And she held no answer to that because even as a witch, she was young. She hadn’t as much experience as the elder witches. Furthermore, now she had to answer all these questions that she created. But there was no answer. Nobody could answer that and whenever she thought she found something to end her research, she found only disappointment. No book could answer her question and for certain that nothing ever will. She looked in all the libraries of time and space but nothing came out of it. She studied everything about the mechanics of the universe and yet fate remained unanswered. This was folly of the highest order in her opinion. How could this exist? What was the crime that made all sentient beings be mortal? Was it the work of Gods? Was it the moment man took the bite from the fruit forbidden by God? Was it when they were created or was it from their sins? She never had a proper answer to this question. And she searched one particular person to educate her about the mechanics of the universe. Mercurius. But who was Mercurius to her? Just a personality she’s read in a record? Nay. That’s not it. She knew he was real because the descriptions matched in all her books. He was a character common in many religions that she studies. From Greek mythology to Nordic, and even texts about him expressing his roots in Abrahamic religions, even Indian and Japanese mythologies. If one was to look closer at the studies, they would all see his print on all the books signed by many big poets and writers. But alas, she digressed. She wanted this ‘Mercurius’ for one purpose only. To answer the mechanics of this world. And if he refused, she would become hellbent on dragging down the stars with her madness. So declared the shadow witch. But for now, her goal was to find Mercurius at all costs. This desire born from her struggles as the last witch was secondary, thus she paid it no heed. She knew that if she could meet Mercurius, then she may be able to bring her comrades back from the depths. But now there instilled a curse that she put on herself, and it couldn’t be broken. The thirst for knowledge. If she learned something from all of this, then she could only see this as a success. And therefore she wouldn’t even be mad if her comrades died, for they wouldn’t die without direction. After all, their end set the canvases for her journey, didn’t it? Her longing was like a light that burned deeper. From the ashes of juvenility, it ignited once more. And the only way to. She knew the very nature of any sentient being was to live, to die and to fall. Never to rise. She understood that like no other and held it as her utmost creed. But like many more, she wished that’s not true, even if the evidence pointed otherwise. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to fade away like her comrades. A rejection of Memento Mori. She didn’t want to know when she will die, neither did she want to know how she will die. She just wanted to live forever. But to do that one had to learn to adjust their eyes to darkness, as well as their heart. She called out the universe for its cruelty but nobody answered. It has been such a long since she was ever happy, not melancholic. But as long as she lived, she hoped to be able to make a change, but she wanted more. A sense that wouldn’t shift. She saw the walls of the universe and wanted to paint over them. But she wasn’t born for such a feat. Nobody was, so was decreed by the higher powers of the universe, it’s masters unwilling to give anything to the servants. Yet another fact that couldn’t be truer. But who was to blame? The masters? The Servants? Or he who made the masters? All of them were to blame. The masters because they had no trust in their servants, but they had their reasons, for the servants were not always righteous in their desires. The servants too were to blame in this scenario as stated earlier. They were not always right, but they were never as golden in thinking as the masters and the ones to blame were the masters because they didn’t gift them enough. But he who made the masters? He was the cause, but not the symptoms. And as everyone suggests, handle the symptoms, not the cause. But alas, she digressed once again. At this point in time, it was pretty tough to stay fixated on one thing. She ought to investigate nevertheless. Her main source of knowledge was about to be burned down to nothingness. The library of the witches. The place where the witches were storing their information to pass it away to the next generations. A war atrocity. That was the first thing Rusalka thought when she heard this. Not even a monster could do this. But it was bound to happen nonetheless. They didn’t want the witches to re-appear, so they burned their only hope to recover. The library. At this point, Rusalka had only one way to gain knowledge. The tombs of the witches, where the high ladies of the witches were eternally resting. There was no other way around it now. It was seen as highly disrespectful within the community of witches to head to the catacombs for anything else than paying respects. But that community was now long gone because the witches didn’t act as they needed. Even in their demise, the witches didn’t necessarily want to harm others. They wanted to use this magic for their own desires, innocent and not so innocent. But the humans had taken offense to the not so innocent desires. And thus, came the purge of the witches. The mallet of the witches. But alas, she shut her mind now. She had no muse to keep her strong, therefore she had to preserve her inspiration. She went to the burned down library, seeing as people were chanting “Burn the witches! Burn the witches!”. In the display, there were three witches that Rusalka had recognized. Nulan, the witch of the hunt. Nero, the witch of black and Pedra, the witch of sentience. She saw as the humans took the torches, ready to burn all three of them. They were planning to kill them by burning them at the stake. She couldn’t remember the last time she was the victor in a battle, or anything to begin with. And yet this was her biggest loss after all. She had. She could do or say anything to take back the life she had made before. She broke, tears dripping from her cheeks, but she didn’t sob. She knew that if she sobbed, she would be caught. While Pedra and Nulan had lost all hope, Nero spotted Rusalka and in her idiocy, she shouted. “Rusalka! Please, save us! Save us-!” She got slapped by a man in his fifties. He had noble clothing, with a monocle at his right eye. It was a surprise he didn’t have a crown on his head with that clothing. “Silence, wretch! Someone, give me the torch. She will be the first to be burned.” The populace gathered around the massacre had done as indicated, giving him a torch. And then, he threw it at her stake, setting it ablaze. Nero’s lung filled with air one last time, letting out a shout towards the only person she could trust. “Rusalka, I beg of you, save us!” Pedra and Nulan watched Nero in horror, then looked around, spotting Rusalka. The villagers looked at Rusalka, as she made her run. Nulan and Pedra struggled out of the stake to no avail. The noble looked at Rusalka, then at Pedra and Nulan, throwing a torch to each of the stakes. Rusalka made her run to the tombs, closing the door behind her. She could barely breathe from this. She sealed the door shut, as the villagers stumbled into the doors in futile attempts to break them. She remembered the expression that Nero had done. It was terrifying for her. But she soon had to self-soothe in order to descend to the catacombs. As she walked down the stairs, she could hear the doors still holding the people outside. She stopped, as the thoughts of letting her own mates die slipped back into her mind. It was the worst kind of torture one could administer. Self-defeating. But what was done was done. If she tried to help them she would only burn with them along. And thus, she’s taken the most rational choice. Running away. After a whole five minutes of descending, she got to the end finally. She had descended more than enough to stop hearing the echoes of the beaten down door. She sighed. She thought of the luck the has befallen on her to even escape the mallet of the witches. She even escaped alive from the chase. But she had her goal in mind, and it was right here. She hastened forward to her goal, the tombs. There, she saw a shadow move, sensing it. “Lara, come out of hiding already. I know it’s you.” A tall woman, skinny, yet not malnourished came out of a corner. Her hair was blonde, her eyes were purple. “Oh my. I didn’t think you could sense me so quickly. What are you doing here anyway?” “Don’t play dumb, Lara! For once, at least try to act serious.” “Oh but why should I?” She walked closer to Rusalka, making the air tense around the two as she did so. She asked a question that not only infuriated Rusalka, but also made her suspicious of her intentions. “What do you want Lara? You wouldn’t be here without a reason. I’m sure you could pass for anything as long as you wanted to. With your manipulation, nothing is impossible, is it?” “Quite so. But then again, what fun is in manipulating everything from the start? I need some of the unknown. Don’t you as well?” She held her hands behind her back, smiling “...” Rusalka felt the tremors of footsteps that were descending. She ran towards the tombs further, until she found the grave of the Lady of the Witches itself. Nara. She then used the shadows of the ground to rip the earth itself apart as if she tortured it. There, she found a coffin. She didn’t use her shadow this time, but rather, her fragile hands to open it. Upon opening it, she found the corpse of Nara, but not what she sought for. “...Where is it?” “Are you looking for this, Rusalka?” She showed her hands holding a book. A specific book, that Rusalka had came here for in the first place. The book of Nara, that she used to inscribe all her shadow magic. Rusalka looked at Lara with disgust. “Give it to me, It’s my legacy!” Aye, Rusalka felt entitled to this book that was Nara’s. Because Rusalka, like Nara, was a shadow witch. And only a shadow witch should ever hold that book in their hands. But Nara wasn’t a shadow witch. Rusalka didn’t even know what kind of witch Lara was in the first place. But all of that didn’t matter now. All that mattered is getting that book. She jumped at Lara, just for her to side-step and dodge Rusalka. “Dammit!” She cursed, now on the ground. Lara just smiled. “My, you sure are hopeless.” In that moment, the villagers had finally made their way to the lowest point of the tomb, spotting Rusalka and Lara, but ignored Lara. They only cared for Rusalka, for some reason. Rusalka struggled in an attempt to get out of the grips of the villagers but to no avail. Their forks and torches were ever closer to her. They kept her in line, as they slowly came out of the tombs, Lara following them. They didn’t bother with her. So it seemed. There, they brought her to the noble before. There, he grabbed her by the chin, staring her down. “So missy, thought you could run away so easily?” No noise came from her mouth, only a spit that she threw in his eye. The noble scratched his eye, then slapped her as punishment. “Daughter of a...Oh don’t worry I’ll make sure your death is as painful as it can be!” Lara stood by the side of the noble, with the same smug face as before. The noble then handed her out a bag of gold pennies, which Rusalke stared at. “...You betrayed your kind for a sack of money?” Her disgusted face said it all. She had lost all faith in the witch before her. A traitor. Her eyes became shallow and dim, with no light reflecting in them anymore. “Don’t take it personal, I’m just keeping myself alive while also getting paid for it. Sounds like a great deal doesn’t it?” Rusalka tried to rip out of the forks of the villagers, but failed to do so. All she wanted right now is to punch Lara with all her strength left. But her so-called shackles stopped her. Lara couldn’t help but smile at this, which enraged her even more. “...But w-why?” “As I stated, Rusalka. Survival and money.” She walked right off, as Rusalka felt weak. Her legs were shaking, her lips were freezing. But that was soon to change. They escorted her to the stake, as they afterwards shackled her to it. Then, they threw the torch at her feet. The stake began to catch on fire, as Rusalka attempted to free herself from the rope, but again to no avail. She couldn’t focus to gain control of the shadow’s fire, or even focus at all. Her focus was entirely placed on trying to escape the shackles, instinctively, even if it didn’t work in the end. Her only concern was survival. But even then, she failed that. She couldn’t self defend, and she couldn’t survive the crimson pyres. The fire reached her, burning her. She let out a shout, a cry for help, but those watching were delighted to watch the young woman die. Every breast had the same scorching fire in it, right in that moment. They saw this moment as a blessed one, blinded by the irrational hatred for witches. The thought of witches going against the normal folk was never an idea man cherished, so they took away the symptoms. The witches. Because the cause was none other than magic, and they couldn’t change that nor destroy it. So they destroyed those who used it. In this case, the witches. At that moment, she cursed her own fate. Why was she predestined to die here, when she had so much time at her disposal to live? Who decided this fate and why couldn’t have she fought against it sooner than later? But the biggest question in all of this was the thought of Deja-Vu she had. Why did she have such a thought? She never thought about Deja-Vu until now, because it wasn’t relevant to her, nor did she care about the concept. But now this sensation classified as such bursts right to her mind. But why? Why would this question bludgeon her right in this moment? That was when he came. Time itself slowed down, to the point that one second had turned into an eternity. Mercurius had answered her call for salvation. “Ah, feign not. I’ve come to make a deal with you, just as I’ve made with many other women. Now if you may, I am Mercurius.” “....” “Ah, I know what you’re thinking. That’s just my magic name. But one may call me as such. It fits me, as a Messenger of a certain God, despite being a God myself. It’s ironic, indeed.” He smirked. “How long have I been waiting for you?” “Quite a long time, from your research. But now, here I am. Is it what you desired?” “Yes. Now, I need your help. I have sought your aid for so long and now you show yourself. Please, save me.” “Ponder this — keep it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! If you desire a blessing onto yourself, you may be invoking a curse upon those around you. Is your choice adamant to you, witch?” “It is so, for my words are pregnant with hatred and malice towards those filths. I will curse them forevermore, for they at their turn cursed my fate.” “Then, I will give you the means necessary to become part of spell.” “A spell?” “Yes, a spell to break one from destiny. You have contempt for these, and through that, you will rise. I will give you what it’s required for you to kill them all. But in the end, you will never get what you want, unless…” “...?” She listened with her heart and ears both. Her breasts were filled with the fire of hatred just like those around her. If one was to think of it, the two were barely separable. But that is what Mercurius and the Golden Beast desired. After all, they treated the rest of the people that didn’t have what it took to be in the Black Round Table with mocking indifference. In other words, they treated the world with such indifference. “Unless you will meet the Golden Beast, your desire will always be invalid to this world. Heed to his cause. Reap. And in accordance with your tally, you will be gracefully rewarded. To create life, and to stretch it to infinity. The creation of undeath. That is the reward, the transmutation of Gold that grants immortality. Kill, and the ritual will let you imbue the souls you have reaped into those dear to you, or perhaps into yourself if you so desire.” “Then so be it! I accept, no matter the costs! Save my life, save the life of my fellow witches and curse the villagers for their folly!” “So be it. Then, it is done. And it cannot be undone.” She thought to herself what a wonderful time this was. But, there she understood the definition of luck. For one to be lucky, he also had to be unlucky at least once, before to be given his entitlement to luck. Another truth that she has discovered this day. Aye, luck and bad luck were but two wolves who were dancing and biting each other in this case. And it seemed that in the end, luck has won for Rusalka. She smiled. Mercurius had faded away, and time resumed. The fire didn’t burn her anymore. She was but smiling. The Noble pointed at her, confused. “What’s she doing? Why is she happ-” In that moment, a chain with a dagger attached to it at the end went into his neck. Rusalka then ripped the rope that was holding her before, walking through the fire like no big deal. The chain went back into her shadow. The noble’s corpse fell down, as his head flew. Rusalka’s chains had decapitated him merely by touching him. The villagers finally felt the sins crawling on their backs. Lara looked at this with a neutral face. She noticed that the book was no longer in her possession, but in Rusalka’s hands. Indeed, Mercurius had given Rusalka the book and the connection was instant. A holy relic, that was the connection between them. Their desires were in common with who wrote in it in the first place. Nara knew in her veins that one time, this may be used as a tool to gather the fear of others and this was the time. As for the villagers, it’s unknown what happened to them. There were only two survivors to Rusalka’s Wrath. Lara that had escaped after she saw the book in Rusalka’s hands and one villager, that was randomly chosen to tell the tale. Why, is because to show strength, you had to restrain yourself to spare at least one person. But that was a huge mistake on her part. She should’ve left none alive, because word spread far and wide. The witches were not seen as a threat to all living beings, demonized even. And as a memorial to the dead, the house of the noble had established a dreadful graveyard for those dead. There stood the son of the Noble. How this noble came to exist were minor, just as his true rank was. He used the witches for an attempt at a bigger influence overall. And his plan would’ve been more than successful if Rusalka didn’t kill him right there. There stood his son, that clenched his fist. “I wasn’t a good enough son. I could’ve helped him...I could’ve saved him.” A man, dressed as a butler, was at his right, as a wingman. He looked down at the grave of the nameless noble, a person without a name but that still had done something in this world. A person that even without a name, still can be remembered through his actions in this world. His death wasn’t a meaningless one after all. It motivated his son to seek out to ascend to the throne of the Gods. This was a world ruled by the Gods after all. He’s given him a reason to be strong, and he knew that he’ll stand strong in the end. His body was shaking, his future was out there waiting to grasp the power. He had to keep it safe from fading. But Rusalka had other motives at hand now. She had one primary goal. To meet the Golden Beast, as ordered by Mercurius. He told her that if she could meet him, then all her desires could be solved. It was that easy, and the answer was right at her nose. The irony was killing her to say the least and at best it was motivating her. Her other goal was to kill Lara for her betrayal. She shouldn’t have betrayed her kind. At least, no other witch has done it. So why should she? She couldn’t think of a motive, even if she was told without any hesitation by Lara, which, she has told her, but Rusalka still denied reality like a child would. But all of that didn’t matter. She had to search for the Golden Beast, but there was one problem? Where is he? It wasn’t like Rusalka could feel where he was. She couldn’t even know which was his shadow, if he even had any. But it couldn’t be this easy. She read about all these fantasy stories. How you must first go through a journey to get what you desire, and this may be just that. But time will tell, in her mind. As for the present, she needed shelter. Killing somebody was the main way to get this, but she couldn’t be bothered with it for now. She had her own standards, and killing somebody just for something as petty as shelter would break those standards, at least for now. She masked her appearance as a woman much older than her actual self in order to blend in the crowd. Normally, this power was banned by the witches, but without any witch to restrict her anymore, this ban was theoretically lifted for her. It didn’t matter now, nor will it matter ever again. Plus, what was just one time or two times? It was unlikely for her to cause too much damage. But the decision was already made. She went to a brothel to end the night. In the bed, she thought with everlasting thoughts about what had happened this very day. Why did Mercurius choose her, out of any of her sisters? Was it because she, out of all of them, was the shadow witch and therefore could relate to the book of Nara? Was it that she was, in some way special? Was it because it was foretold to be by a higher force? No, that couldn’t be. She was deluding herself away from reality with such questions. And thus, she fell asleep thinking about questions of the machine that kept the Universe going. Deep in her conscious, there was a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense, even in terms of magic. But the real universe is always a step beyond logic. The next day, she woke up, with a bitter taste in her mouth. It wasn’t the fact she’s killed the villagers. Nor that one of them escaped, or that Lara escaped the punishments of her crime. It was the taste of the noble that she killed. She was oblivious as to why he’s tried to kill all of the witches. She, like any other idiot could have done, concluded that it wasn’t only to save humankind as others were speaking. It was something deeper and it had to do with not only the royalty, but the witches as well. She wanted to find out what was happening. She remembered how the noble paid Lara gold for her service, but why? Lara said money and survival, but Rusalka pondered something else at the bottom of it all. Though, with a good night’s sleep, she felt much better at making decisions. Now, the only thing that had to be done is start searching for the Golden Beast. Mercurius told her to wait and let herself be found, but how does one let themselves be found? She didn’t even know how he looked to begin with, let alone let him come to her. But at least, she had to try something in her mind, thus she might as well try. For her first investigation, she went to the forest. It wasn’t the place to search for the Lord of the Dead, but it was possible for the animals, or at least their souls to tell her something. She used her shadow to absorb a deer, her whole body crumbling into the shadows and disappearing. Then, tried to read the information from its soul. But, she couldn’t. She thought, why couldn’t she read the soul of a mere deer? She never tried it with a human soul, but she had the stock to do so after the village incident. Therefore, she gave it a try with a normal, human soul. She couldn’t read it either. And each time she tried, she could feel as if she lost a bit of her own individuality. She was certain that getting information out of the souls of people was impossible, at least to her. Nobody explained the information the soul carried to her anyway. It wasn’t her fault, she thought. And she also thought she was entitled to knowing as the shadow witch, despite the fact that she may not know the answer to this question ever. The reason she chose a forest is because nobody would notice if a deer went missing. She didn’t want to raise more suspicion then there already was. People didn’t trust each other anymore because of the recent events and that, while it opened some opportunities, it also made it hard to get around without drawing suspicion of herself and her actions. But then again, she could always change her appearance. But after she’s caught once, how long would it take for people to consider the existence of her shapeshifting powers? That would make it even harder to go around unnoticed. And as she thought before, it was already hard enough. No need to make it even harder at this point. It was already a challenge.